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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27825811">December</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeepingintheTARDIS/pseuds/WeepingintheTARDIS'>WeepingintheTARDIS</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Broadchurch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>12 Days of Christmas, Alec Hardy Needs A Hug, Christmas, F/M, Fireworks, Other Additional Tags to Be Added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:00:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27825811</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeepingintheTARDIS/pseuds/WeepingintheTARDIS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course Alec Hardy hates Christmas.</p><p>When a request from Tess hits too close to home, Hardy's unresolved past starts to threaten the relationship with his daughter. With Christmas fast approaching, how will this affect his decisions?</p><p>A moderately dark Christmas tale that focuses primarily on Alec's relationship with his daughter. Of course Ellie is there to help and maybe, just maybe she can show him what really makes Christmas so special.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alec Hardy &amp; Daisy Hardy, Alec Hardy &amp; Ellie Miller, Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The ghost of Christmas Past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I had so many ideas and plotlines that I wanted to make this a choose your own adventure kind of thing, but unfortunately my schedule is so cramped with deadlines and exams that I barely managed one plotline.<br/>Fingers crossed that I actually finish 12 parts before Christmas time's over.</p><p>Happy reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first of December officially marked the beginning of the Christmas season. </span>
  <span>At least, that’s what Miller said. Hardy was convinced that this was just an excuse for people so that they wouldn’t have to apologize for playing their god-awful Christmas songs all day long. Of course sharing this opinion with Miller had only earned him a wholehearted eyeroll in response and a pat on the shoulder as she wished him good luck surviving the coming weeks with that mindset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he couldn’t appreciate the effort people put into making this season so special, he mused, while preparing dinner for him and Daisy, it was the fact that they put in the effort because of the season. For starters, it just didn’t make sense and one (mostly Alec), could argue that it was hypocritical and self-serving behaviour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was only one of the various reasons that Alec Hardy hated Christmas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once he had set the table, Hardy went to the stairs and called for his daughter. ‘Dinner’s ready!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stumble came from upstairs, followed by an opening door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Down in a minute!’ Daisy yelled back. ‘I’m on the phone.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard her return to her phone call in a muffled voice. Nodding to himself he returned to the kitchen and poured them both a glass of water. Then he sat down. It was nice, he thought, not having to eat alone. Ever since Daisy had moved in with him, he had put a lot of effort into being home more often. Being able to do something as simple as having dinner together meant so much more to him after being separated for years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later Daisy came running down the stairs and joined him at the table. ‘Mum says hi.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, trying to keep a straight face. The only reason Tess sent her regards through Daisy, was that she needed something from him. Their daughter was used as a messenger to make him more amenable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘How is she?’ he inquired in what he hoped was a conversational tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy shrugged. ‘Busy. As always.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Of course.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘She wants me to come over for the weekend.’ she added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t make out the emotions underlying that statement. His daughter's face mirrored his own expressionless features. The resemblance between them was unsettling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You could.’ Hardy said slowly. ‘Do you want to?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy shrugged, sinking into her chair. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked her over one more time, not sure what to make of her unsatisfying answer. Putting on a small smile he gestured at the food between them. ‘Shall we eat?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took a moment of silence, both staring at their own plate. It was something that they had accustomed to only recently. The Hardys weren’t religious, so they never prayed before a meal. Somewhere along the way after Daisy had moved in with him and Hardy went back to actually sitting down and taking time to have dinner, this had become a habit. The combination of his job and Daisy’s finals, resulted in both father and daughter being stressed out more often than not. The moment of silence had been integrated into their routine to start their meal from a place of rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardy lifted his eyes, meeting Daisy’s and sent her a smile, which she returned. Then he tilted the lid and divided the food between their plates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They started eating and the silence grew heavier with every minute that passed. Hardy felt that Daisy wanted to tell him something, but he didn’t know how to and whether to press for the matter. Daisy was stabbing her fork oddly at a green piece on her plate, trying to decide what it was and if she was gonna eat it or not. Hardy was about to make a comment on this when she suddenly spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Mum asked if we wanted to stay over for Christmas.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fork clattered on the table as he almost choked on the  bite that he had just put in his mouth. ‘What?’ he spluttered, coughing and wiping his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy looked as if she was trying to be swallowed by the chair. ‘She wants us to spend Christmas together.’ she whispered, unable to look at him. ‘As a family.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his fingers tighten around the knife in his hand. Closing his eyes he counted to ten. Then to a hundred. Then back to zero. The knife slid from his grip, colliding with the ground a moment later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Dad?’ her voice was so small. He wanted to comfort her, but the rage building up in him prevented him from even trying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abruptly he shoved back his chair and stood up. ‘I need some air.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m sorry.’ she offered weakly. ‘I didn’t know how to tell you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Not your fault.’ he grunted. ‘This is entirely on your mother.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once outside, he started walking, not caring in which direction. His feet seemed to have a destination in mind and he let them take him. His mind was racing, thoughts blurred in anger and sadness. He felt guilty for walking out on his daughter. He felt enraged by his ex-wife for using her as a buffer. He felt so angry at himself for scaring Daisy. She had known. They both had known that he would not react lightly to this. They all knew what had happened that last time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Christmas Eve, three years ago</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The door to the kitchen swung open silently, revealing Tess who was standing at the stove with her back turned to them and was fussing with the pans. Daisy was about to call her mother, but Alec put his finger to his lips and gestured pointedly at the phone that was clenched between her ear and shoulder.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'That'd be great, yeah…' Tess moved the empty frying pan around absentmindedly while she listened.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The low muffled voice coming from the small speaker was just indescernable enough that Alec couldn’t make out what was being said. It must have been something nice because he could hear the smile in her voice as she answered.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Okay, I'll see you soon.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A pause. Alec wondered for a moment who could be on the other end and sent Daisy a questioning look. His daughter shrugged, shaking her head. She didn’t know either.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This in itself wasn’t uncommon, not with work and Tess’ rather large social circle that he couldn’t keep track of. A lot of different people called. In fact, Alec wouldn’t have bothered to think anything about it at all if he hadn’t heard the three words that ended the phone call.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Love you too!' Tess put down the phone and sighed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he arrived back home, hours later, the house was silent and the kitchen had been cleaned. He made his way up the stairs slowly. As he put his head around the door to Daisy’s room, he found that she was already fast asleep. In the weak light he could barely make out the stains of tears on her cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m so sorry, darling.’ he whispered softly. ‘I shouldn’t have been gone for so long.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>WIth another wave of guilt he realised the double meaning of his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears of frustration burning behind his eyes, he closed the door behind him and went to bed.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Bloody Christmas songs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daisy leaves. Hardy and MIller investigate a break in.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I swear I wanted this to be short.<br/>This chapter is a bit jumbled and Alec's emotions are all over the place, but I hope it's not too confusing.<br/>Happy reading (it's certainly less angsty than the first chapter ;))</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>‘You took you time.’ Miller commented as he slipped into the passenger's seat.of her car five minutes later than planned.</p><p>‘Train was delayed.’ he grumbled by way of explanation as he fastened his seatbelt. ‘What have we got?’</p><p>Her eyes flicked over his face, searching for something which she apparently couldn’t find. ‘Is she okay?’</p><p>Miller was smart, he had to give her that. Once she would have asked him if he was alright, which was the most obvious question. But after all the time they spend together, she had figured out a better strategy to get him to talk. Hardy briefly wondered if all women used daughters as a buffer in difficult conversations.</p><p>‘She’s seeing her mother for the weekend.’ he said, as if that was a satisfying answer to the question. He groaned at the sceptical look Miller shot him. ‘She’s fine.’</p><p>‘Okay.’</p><p>He knew that voice. That was the voice that meant she would trust him for now and not press any further. It was also a hidden warning that she would be watching him closely.</p><p>Hardy leaned his head against the window and watched the houses pass by. He couldn’t remember it being so hard to let his daughter go.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>…</b>
</p><p> </p><p>He had just put the kettle on when she entered the kitchen. Without even looking at him she moved over to the fridge and considered its contents.</p><p>‘We’re out of milk.’ he said.</p><p>‘Again.’ With an irritated snort she slammed the door shut. </p><p>‘I’m sorry.’ he offered lamely. ‘Can I make you tea instead?’</p><p>‘Really, dad?’ her glare was so heated that he took a step back involuntarily. ’That’s it?’</p><p>‘Daisy, wait!’ he reached for her, but retreated his hand before he could touch her. </p><p>Daisy backed away, out of reach. Crossing her arms, she waited.</p><p>‘I’m sorry.’</p><p>‘What for?’ she snapped. ‘For scaring the hell out of me? For leaving me without telling me when you’d be back? For hating mum so much you fly into a rage even thinking about spending Christmas with her?’</p><p>He stared at her, taken aback by the force of her question and the next words tumbled out on their own accord. </p><p>‘I don’t hate you mum.’</p><p>It was possibly the worst answer he could have given and he hadn't expected these words to ever leave his lips. However, the honesty of the statement was frightening.</p><p>Daisy opened her mouth, then closed it again and shook her head, completely speechless.</p><p>The kettle started boiling and the loud whistle seemed to fill the suddenly too heavy air between them.</p><p>Hardy was glad to have an excuse to turn away from under her accusing gaze. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. Whatever emotions were boiling in his chest when he thought of Tess, he knew what hate felt like and this wasn't it. Not anymore. Deciding not to venture any further into unknown territory, he moved back to the question instead. </p><p>‘I’m not apologizing for going out yesterday.’ he started while he poured water in the mug and then reached up to grab another one for Daisy. ‘If I had stayed, I would have said or done things I could never take back.’</p><p>He shot a glance over his shoulder and found his daughter. She was perched on the table, arms crossed tightly over her chest, but she was listening. When he was satisfied the tea was strong enough for her liking, he handed it to her.</p><p>‘Dais, I should have explained why I left. I’m sorry I didn’t. I know I scared you.’</p><p>To his immense relief she accepted the tea from him. He watched as she wrapped her fingers tightly around it and held the mug against her chest. Then her gaze dropped and she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry too, dad. I know that must have hurt.’</p><p>‘It did.’ he agreed. Then, softer, he added ‘Are we good?’</p><p>Daisy nodded. ‘Yeah, we’re good.’</p><p>Hardy took this as permission to close the distance between them and pull his daughter into a soft hug. He rubbed her back as she leaned her head against his shoulder, tea still clamped in her hands between them. He dropped a small kiss on her head. ‘I love you, darling.’</p><p> </p><p>...</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>He didn’t want her to go, not really, especially not after the previous evening, but it somehow had felt like the right thing to do. His mind wandered back to the previous evening when he had persuaded Daisy to go to Sandbrook.</p><p>‘You should go.’ he had told her. ‘Even if you don’t want to see your mother, I know she misses you. And I know you miss your friends.’</p><p>At the mention of her friends, Daisy had finally agreed, though still reluctantly, to let him buy her a train ticket.</p><p> </p><p>They had left the town behind and were now driving through the fields. Hardy didn’t recognise their surroundings. He turned his attention to Miller. ‘Where are we going?’</p><p>‘A few miles out of town.’ she answered. ‘There’s been a break-in in one of the old barns that are being used as warehouses.’</p><p>‘And what kind of ware are we talking about?’</p><p>‘Oh, you’re so not gonna like this!’ A wide grin spread over her face. ‘Take a guess. Hint, it’s something you’ve probably never bought.’</p><p>‘I’m not in the mood for games.’</p><p>‘Are you ever?’</p><p>‘Miller!’</p><p>‘Okay okay…’ she sighed. ‘You’re no fun today.’</p><p>He groaned.</p><p>‘Okay, sorry, sorry. They stock fireworks.’</p><p>He was secretly hoping this would be more than a small petty theft. A complex case was just what he needed to keep his mind busy.</p><p>‘You’re right.’ he suddenly said.</p><p>‘What?’  </p><p>‘I’ve never bought fireworks. Bloody hate ‘m.’</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately for Hardy the break-in was not at all spectacular. The owner of the establishment -Hardy would call it a shack- gave them a short tour around the place. Hundreds of pallets were placed in orderly rows with marked boxes stacked on top in columns raising all the way to the ceiling. At the back they encountered a stack with a hole in which about a dozen boxes had been removed. As a replacement two small stools sat in the hole to prevent the tower from collapsing in on itself. The construction was quite impressive, but frankly Hardy was mostly disappointed that someone had gone through all this trouble just to nick a couple of boxes of bloody fireworks. Even though he estimated the street value of the stolen boxes to add up to a few thousand pounds, this was still a minor theft and by far not interesting enough for him to focus. What didn’t help was that the owner only seemed to be capable of speaking in a very slow and dull manner, as if everything was boring to him. </p><p>‘And you are sure this was done by someone else?’ Miller questioned the owner while Hardy knelt down to take a closer look. He gladly let her take over the lead on this one.</p><p>The man nodded agitatedly. ‘I swear, yesterday those boxes were here. I walked the last round myself. And then this morning they were gone.’</p><p>‘Any signs of a break in?’</p><p>‘No. The doors were still locked when I came in.’</p><p>Ellie made a note and looked around, scanning the ceiling. ‘Do you have video security?’</p><p>The man shook his head. ‘Only at the main entrance and around the offices. I already checked them, but couldn’t see anything out of order.’</p><p>Hardy rose and followed Miller’s gaze with a scrunched face. ‘Are you sure this place is up to standards?’</p><p>‘I beg your pardon?’</p><p>‘Safety standards.’ Hardy clarified, gesturing at their surroundings. ‘We’re basically standing inside a gigantic bomb. How is it possible that someone can sneak in unnoticed?’</p><p>The man shrugged. ‘Isn’t it your job to find out?’</p><p>Annoyance flared up in his chest and he was ready to tell the man exactly what his job here was, but Miller stepped in before he could make another comment.</p><p>‘We would like to see the footage anyway.’ she sent the owner that unarming smile that only ever worked on the male species. ‘And can you tell me where these come from?’</p><p>The owner regarded the stools and thought for a moment. ‘I think we threw them out a month ago, so they might have still been lying around. There's a corner at the other end of the premises where all garbage is collected.</p><p>‘Premises…’ Hardy muttered and then yelped because Miller elbowed him in the ribs.</p><p>‘Behave.’ she hissed, before going back to questioning the owner.</p><p> </p><p>They spent another thirty minutes looking around while the owner copied the footage, a list of all employees and a map of the premises onto a hard drive for them. There were indeed no traces of a break-in and because of the rain it was useless to search for footprints outside. Hardy was growing more and more impatient with every passing minute and finally he snapped.</p><p>‘Miller! That’s enough.’ he shouted over to the other end of the hall where Miller was standing. ‘We’re going.’</p><p>Miller frowned. ‘But sir, we didn’t find anything.’</p><p>‘Exactly.’ he started walking towards the exit. ‘This has been a waste of time.’</p><p>‘Mind telling me why?’</p><p>He slowed down a little, allowing her to catch up. ‘It’s obviously an inside job, someone who knows their way around and knows how to cover their tracks in this place. It’s probably just an employee sneaking some boxes home to surprise their kids.’</p><p>‘You might be right.’ she agreed. ‘But for you this is incredibly short-sighted. Did you hit your head?’</p><p>‘What? No.’ he shot her an annoyed glare.</p><p>‘No snarky remark?’ she raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been brooding the whole ride here, you let me take the lead on an investigation without asking and now this... Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?’</p><p>‘The only thing that’s “going on”.’ he mimicked her, increasing his pace again. ‘is that you won’t stop asking that bloody question.’</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>He waited in the car, buckled up and leaning against the window, thoughts miles away. He imagined Daisy would be having dinner with her mother right now. Would they talk about school? Or would she try to talk Daisy into believing that spending Christmas together was a good idea? Knowing Tess, she wouldn’t be able to let it go until a decision had been made.</p><p>This destructive line of thoughts was thankfully disrupted when Miller got in. He didn’t move, even as she handed him the hard drive. </p><p>With a dramatic sigh she dropped it in his lap and started the engine.</p><p>‘You know.’ she spoke softly. ‘Sometimes you really worry me.’</p><p>He almost wanted to tell her that worried himself too, but instead he said ‘Miller?’</p><p>‘Sir?’</p><p>‘I don’t want to talk about it.’</p><p>‘Okay.’ She shot him a sad smile. ‘I’ll just put on the radio.’</p><p>Miller pushed a button on the dashboard and the happy tunes of some pop song filled the car. They listened as the music faded out and transitioned into another popular tune. </p><p>
  <em> “Oh I-I-I…. i don't want a lot for Christmas….” </em>
</p><p>‘Oh bloody hell.’ Hardy reached over and turned down the volume, trying to switch the station, but it was too late.</p><p>
  <em> “There is just one thing I need” </em>
</p><p>Miller’s hand came out of nowhere and batted his hand away. ‘Don’t you dare take away this little happiness.’</p><p>Using the buttons on the steering wheel, she increased the volume.</p><p>“<em> I don’t care about the presents” </em></p><p>He pushed her hand away and dialed the volume down again. ‘I’m not listening to this garbage.’</p><p>“<em> Underneath the Christmas tree” </em></p><p>‘This is my car, I decide.’ she argued and gave the dial a swing the other way.</p><p>
  <em> “I just want you for my own” </em>
</p><p>‘I’m your boss, my decision is final.’ he retorted. He tried one last time to end his misery, aiming for the off-button, but Miller’s fingers closed around his wrist. Her eyes hadn’t left the road.</p><p>“<em> More than you could ever know” </em></p><p>Hardy decided to change tactics. ‘Miller, do you know that bloodstains are really hard to wash out of a car seat?’</p><p>“<em> Make my wish com truueeeee….” </em></p><p>‘Are you kidding me?’ she yelled. ‘Are you seriously threatening to kill me over a Christmas song?’</p><p>“<em> All I want for Christmas….” </em></p><p>‘What? No!’ he shouted back. ‘I was talking about my ears.’</p><p>“<em> I-i-is…. </em>.”</p><p>‘Knob!’ Miller shook her head and, in punishment, turned the volume even higher. She was smiling, however, and to his own surprise, Hardy found that he was laughing as well.</p><p>
  <em> “You-ou!!!” </em>
</p><p>As the sound the bells increased and the drums started kicking, Hardy finally had to admit his defeat. </p><p>‘Okay, I surrender.’ he threw up his hands. ‘I will listen to the bloody Christmas song, but please turn it down a little.’</p><p>‘SInce you asked so nicely.’ Miller adjusted the volume to a bearable level. </p><p>Hardy slouched back against the window again and listened as Ellie gently hummed along. A few times she turned her head as if to check up on him, but true to his word he didn’t make an attempt to touch the radio anymore. Instead he stared at the soft line of her lips moving along with the lyrics and for the first time that day he found that he was truly focused. All thoughts of the previous days had vacated as he watched and listened. It was pure irony that a Christmas song was the thing that took his mind off Christmas. Hardy still hated the song but, he pondered, listening to it like this actually wasn’t so bad.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks everyone for reading, especially to those taking the time to leave a comment. You guys are awesome!</p><p>My mind is so occupied with other stuff that my proofreading was done in a hurry, so feel free to point out major mistakes and I will gladly fix them.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Decorating</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ellie decorates the office</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is supposed to be a two-parter where the reader has to make a choice.<br/>See end-note</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hardy didn’t particularly care about Sundays. He wasn’t religious, so he didn’t have the obligation to go to church. If there wasn’t a pressing case -no, a few stolen boxes of fireworks were not pressing enough- he was free from work. The only thing that he liked about Sundays was that he could spend time with his daughter. Today, however, with Daisy in Sandbrook and her words still ringing in his ears, this Sunday was quickly turning out to be the darkest day of his week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling restless, he had tried to distract himself by cleaning the house (but without Daisy it was already too organized), taking a walk (too many people out there), and reading (or rather staring blankly at the pages). He was actively avoiding thinking about the upcoming holidays, but it wasn’t working. Finally Hardy gave up the staring contest with his book and dropped it on the coffee table. He grabbed his coat and went out. Maybe a few hours of work would ease his mind off things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had been fully expecting to find the bullpen dark and empty, but when he ascended the stairs the sound of soft piano tones came floating his way. After a moment he recognized it as a classical version of Silent Night. Curious he rounded the last corner</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Hardy!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A human shaped bundle of lights moved in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Miller?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ellie, because of course it was her, grinned at him from between the string of decorative lights. ‘What are you doing here?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Work.’ he said, too perplexed to sound annoyed about being nearly blinded. ‘What are you doing here? And why are you wearing that?’’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oh, this?’ she lifted an armful of lights and made a wide gesture around the room. ‘I’m decorating.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Right…’ He seized her wrist before she could hit him and gently pressed her arm down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Do you want to help?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘No.’ He brushed past her, avoiding her hopeful smile. ‘I best let you get on with it.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard glass jingle and he presumed Miller had shrugged to herself. He crossed the room, carefully stepping over the various lights and ornaments littering the floor. The bullpen looked like the crime scene of an explosive Christmas tree. There was tinsel, baubles, stars, all in various sizes and colours, and branches of the artificial green that had yet to be assembled into a tree. Miller had apparently been too busy with the lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A loud crashing sound came from under his foot and Hardy felt a small plastic bauble crack under his weight. With a grimas he knelt down, gathering the pieces and went to throw them in his bin. Only then he realised that the chaos extended farther than the bullpen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Miller!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She came running at his exclamation, having discarded most of the lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What have you done to my office?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped at his shoulder and watched him gingerly. ‘I put up some lights.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He threw her a glare. ‘You thought you’d just redecorate my office for me?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Not redecorated!’ she crossed her arms defensively. ‘Just added some light.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scrunched his nose. ‘I don’t like it.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Of course you don’t.’</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Does Hardy tell Ellie to take down the lights?<br/>Yes or no?</p><p>Originally I intedend lo split the story into different branches from here on. I was gonna take the "no" path, but then I figured why not leave at least a small choice to the readers ^^<br/>The path with the most votes will be continued (otherwise it will be "no" by default). I hope to edit in the parallel path during the Christmas break.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Decorating II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Adding a little bit of light to fight the darkness within</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And the unanimous vote was "Yes, but no."<br/>Here we go</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>‘Take them down.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You heard me just fine.’ In three long strides he was behind his desk and sat down. Miller was still standing in the doorway, staring at him incredulously. He looked back expectantly. ‘Well?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘No.’ She crossed her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘If you hate them so much you can take them down yourself.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes pierced into his, staring him down until he looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Well?’ she repeated his words back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardy groaned inwardly. He didn’t like the newest addition to his office, but standing up now to remove the lights under Miller’s piercing gaze would be admitting his defeat. The thought alone was humiliating enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Just go.’ he waved. ‘before you can do any more damage.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miller looked as if she wanted to say something else, but to his relief she shook her head and left in silence. Only to pop in again a minute later to hand him his mug, filled with tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m too nice to you and you know it.’ she told him, before closing the door with a definite click.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardy felt a pang of guilt at her cold tone, but before he could do anything other than sigh, his phone started vibrating. It was Daisy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Hi, darling. Everything okay?’ he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he listened to his daughter’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Hi, dad! Yeah, I’m fine. How are you holding up without me?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m working on a case.’ he said, carefully sidestepping the question. Technically it wasn’t a lie. ‘Why are you calling?’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just wanted to check up on you.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Liar.’ He smiled.. ‘You never call just to ask how I’m doing.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy let out a laugh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘No, I suppose I don’t.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She was stalling, Hardy noticed. He cleared his throat, deciding to help her. ‘So, you wanna tell your grumpy dad what’s on your mind?’ </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘It’s difficult.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> Daisy’s voice was small as she added.</span>
  <em>
    <span>’I don’t want you to get mad again.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He understood immediately. ‘Is this about Christmas again?’ </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Have you thought about it yet?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I erm-’ he chewed his lip, not sure how to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘I didn’t expect you to.’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>Daisy hastily reassured him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘It’s just that mum’s a bit worked up about it at the moment. She wants to sort this as quickly as possible, so she might try to call you. Don’t let mum pressure you into anything, okay? We’ll talk about it when I get back.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Okay.’ he said flatly. ‘I just won’t pick up the phone.’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Dad!’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>she scolded mockingly. Then she cleared her throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I gotta go. See you tomorrow.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The phone call ended rather abruptly. Hardy stared at the black screen for a moment and then put it face down on his desk. He buried his head in his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Love you too!' Tess put down the phone and sighed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Mom, you were right!'  Daisy walked up to her mother, who turned so quickly that she stumbled to keep her balance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Dais!' She exclaimed. 'I didn't hear you come down.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'The dress fits perfectly. And it turns out that dad actually knows how to fix my hair.' She chuckled and shot her father a goodhearted wink. 'It’s almost as if he’s had practise.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The joke fell flat as Tess' eyes shot up tnmo Alec, who had remained in the doorframe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Alec.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'You were right about the dress.' He gestured at Daisy. 'She looks lovely.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Daisy beamed. 'Thanks, dad.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He held out his arm invitingly and gave her a soft hug. 'You're welcome, darling.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Raising his eyes to Tess he released her. Luckily Daisy stepped in once again, giving her mother a hug as well and asking 'Who was that on the phone?'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Your uncle.' Tess pocketed her phone. 'Kev sends his regards and apologies that he's not attending the family dinner.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Isn't he still in America?' Alec cut in. 'Isn't it like the middle of the night for him?'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tess paused. 'Yes, he couldn't sleep.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The tension in the kitchen rose once again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Darling, why don't you change back into your own clothes, hmm?' Alec suggested. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Daisy sent him a confused frown, but left anyway.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Once he heard footsteps ascending the stairs, Alec closed the door and looked at his wife. 'Are we going to talk about what just happened, or are we just gonna ignore it?'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Is there something we should talk about?' She quipped, raising one eyebrow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'For fucks sake, Tess. I'm not an idiot.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'I know.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Then don't treat me like one.' </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Then don't treat me like one of your suspects.' She countered. 'Like I said, Kevin called me. Do you wanna check my phone?'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'No!' He frowned. He wanted to, but he knew that there would be no return from that violation of trust. 'I just… I never heard you tell someone you love them except…'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Except for you.' She finished. Her gaze turned softer. 'And Daisy, and my parents and yes, even sometimes my stupid-ass brother deserves to hear it.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alec swallowed. The relief he felt at the satisfactory explanation was quickly overturned by guilt and shame. Why didn't he trust her. What kind of man confronted his wife like he just had?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Tess.' He muttered weakly. 'I'm sorry.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She bit her lip then shook her head. 'I guess we're both a bit on edge after the last weeks. A few days off might be just what we need.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He shook his head as he stumbled forwards into her waiting arms. 'I should've trusted you.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Do you trust me now?'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He nodded, burying his face in her neck. A small sob escaped him as Tess tangled a hand in the thick strands of hair and held him close. He tightened his grip around her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Let's put work behind us for now, okay?' She whispered. 'We get to celebrate Christmas as a family.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hand on his shoulder shook him from his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Are you okay?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly he raised his head and the hand fell away. His office had turned completely dark apart from the damned Christmas lights. A glance at his phone told him that over an hour had passed and that he had two missed calls, both from Tess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m-’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Don’t lie to me.’ Ellie interrupted sharply. ‘You’re not fine.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘No.’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘I’m not. But I don’t want to talk about it.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Then don’t don’t.’ She shrugged. ‘Wanna lend me a hand?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment he thought he could refuse, but Ellie must have seen it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m not allowing you to stay in here brooding all by yourself. Either you help me or you’re taking your work to where I can see you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Fine.’ he grunted. ‘I’ll help.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Marvelous.’ She motioned for him to precede her out of the office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together they fixed the last lights that Ellie hadn’t been able to attach. A small hook was sticking from the ceiling in one of the corners and Hardy cursed the person who had put it there. He was balancing on a chair, struggling to reach the hook despite being a good bit taller, while Miller yelled instructions at him and failed to steady him. It was a miracle neither of them got injured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following Miller’s directions, they put the remaining decorations in their respective boxes. While they worked, she kept talking to him. She told him about her kids, about putting up the Christmas tree, how Fred had been delighted that he was allowed to put the star on top. She told him about her dad, that she found it both endearing and annoying that he was around so much these days. He was glad for the distraction she provided for him. Listening to her stories meant that he didn’t have to focus on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hardy had carried the last box into the little storage closet, Miller turned off the radio. In silence they observed their work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardy had to admit that the place looked almost cozy. Red and green tones dominated the room, complemented by hundreds of soft lights and their starry reflections hitting him from every direction. Miller had somehow managed to create an atmosphere that spoke of warmth and hope and comfort, without overdoing it. With a pang of sadness he realised that this was the feeling that Christmas was supposed to inspire. Shaking of the thought he breathed in deeply and tried to take it all in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Good work, sir.’ Ellie smiled at him widely.  ‘Thanks for the help.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You forced me.’ he grunted, trying to keep at least some of his composure, while warmth filled his chest. Pride, he realised, because this was partly his doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I appreciate it anyway.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The warmth rose up to his neck and he tried not to let his inner turmoil show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ellie touched his arm lightly. ‘Ready to go home?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They got their jackets and then Miller pulled the plug, plunging both the bullpen and Hardy’s thoughts back into the unforgiving darkness.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope this was to your liking.<br/>Lets all agree that Alec Hardy needs a hug.<br/>I promise he will get one when he's ready for it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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